That They Might Not Suffer
by The Canadian Ninja
Summary: What happens when one person attempts to defy nature? A Renaultcentric fic focusing on his life before being recruited. Contains spoilers for all his supports. Why I deleted chapter two, I can't remember, but it's back up!
1. Prologue

**That They Might Not Suffer**

In retrospect, he thought, it was a foolish assumption. They were still young. The two were a force to be reckoned with. One was a lauded mercenary, a borderline legendary hero; the other was a druid with exceptional mastery of his art. They thought they were invincible.

They were wrong.

Both sides had their downfalls. For example, the druid had succumbed to illness early in his life and was blinded. He learned the art of elder magic in an attempt to regain his lost eyesight. He did not succeed, but he learned to see through the aid of his magic.

Neither side realized the inherent flaw in his actions until it was too late. With good reason; they thought, after all, that they were invincible. The invincible have no reason to be worried about death, especially when they still had incredible strength in their body. On the rare occasion that they thought about what would happen at the end of their lives, they simply laughed. They may not have been the youngest around, but death was not about to come knocking on their doors. That pair, the near-legendary alliance of a hero and a druid, could tackle anything without fear.

That hero was on his knees, mourning the loss of his friend. It was difficult for him, he realized. He knew nothing of prayer. He knew nothing of church. He knew absolutely nothing about holy teachings. But he knew how to mourn the death of a man he could have called his brother.

Renault had realized that inherent flaw in Kishuna's sight; that it revolved around magic. All it took was a man with a Silence stave getting lucky enough to catch the druid off-guard. From there, the ambush party wasn't fighting Renault and Kishuna, they were fighting Renault.

They were still no match for him. Renault was a hero for a reason. The only problem was that they had caught the pair in the open; Renault could not force Kishuna into a corner so to protect him. He hadn't noticed. He was focused on killing these fools who had robbed his friend, albeit briefly, of his sight.

When he was finished, he realized with a shock that they had not robbed him briefly—it was permanent. Kishuna would never see again, nor would he hear his friend's panicked words or feel his friend shaking him, trying to get him to move again. The handle of a dagger was protruding from his hood, straight into the back of his head.

That, Renault thought, was a week ago. He was uncomfortable here, in front of his friend's tombstone. The two were always close and always being mistaken as two brothers rather than friends. It was difficult for him to be on his knees in front of the last remnants of his body. Although he did not believe in spirits, Renault gradually stood from his position and left without a word, hoping Kishuna's soul would not mind.

It wasn't fair. It couldn't be fair. His friend—nay, his _brother_—had been taken from him far before his time. Kishuna had already lived a life of strife, turmoil and pain; had he lived a year longer, he could have stopped fighting and settled down. The two had earned enough money over the years that they could afford to no longer work for whoever had the most money. With a hint of greed, Renault realized he could stop the mercenary business now that he owned Kishuna's share of the profits.

He took his friend's money and left. However, he was not about to settle down. He may have been a strong fighter, but he knew nothing of magic. He believed that if magic could help his friend see again, magic could bring his friend back.

He simply needed to find it.

However, no one was interested in helping him. They all focused on their own interests, especially the sages. The sages needed the spirits around them to cast their magic and while they used the spirits of nature, a resurrection, they told him, would disrupt the flow of the spirits. In short, they would be deprived of their power. Renault left, disgusted with them. How could they want their stupid elemental powers over his friend's life? It was because he was a druid, wasn't it? Damnable sages always had a problem with druids.

He searched out druids reputed throughout Elibe for their knowledge, but even if he got an answer out of them, they all laughed. All that elaborated all said the same thing—mastery of magic could elongate life to thousand-year lifespans, but nothing could bring a person back from the dead; after all, it would disrupt the flow of nature. Again, Renault cursed the bones of these druids. They had given their all into researching how to cheat death and that was the best they could come up with? They must have been keeping the information within themselves, using the same excuses as the sages. After killing a few of them, Renault came to the realization that it wasn't doing much good and returned to Etruria.

Finally, in a fit of desperation weeks later, he went to the Eliminean Church. He did not make a pretty sight; while he was well-dressed, there were still spots of blood all over his clothes. He spoke with a bishop, being rude and almost demanding at times, but nevertheless, the bishop tolerated him and explained the situation. Not only did the idea of resurrection go against the teachings of Elimine, but, and Renault was sick of hearing this excuse, it would disrupt the natural order of things. At least in this case, he uttered a few choice curses at the bishop before stalking away.

There were some mercenaries who made a small profit off Renault's intense search. Many of them got together and devised a mythical artifact that they named the Valkyrie Staff. In their story, the staff would bring back a person of significant power back to life, no matter how long it had been. They spread this story throughout the land after making sure Renault had paid them good money to hear the tale and purposefully vague clues of its existence and location. He had followed the clues to the harshest areas of Ilia, hoping to find a staff and instead finding several jeering signs that he had been duped for almost a year.

Renault had come back and added a few more bodies to the local burying grounds.

With all his options drying up, he resorted to alcohol, attempting to drown his worries away. The other patrons always jeered at him. "See that drunkard? That's what happened to the legendary Renault without his buddy Kishuna around to back him up. He ain't so tough now, eh?" While the patrons who challenged him still died just as fast, life simply wasn't the same without his friend around.

News of his downhill spiral reached across the land. Where his name was once feared, it was now ridiculed. A man who killed thousands and couldn't cope with one. Very few people felt any sort of pity or sympathy for him; most everyone in Elibe had known someone who was affected by Renault's killing streak.

The one person who felt the most for him, arguably for ulterior motives, was Lord Reglay. He had earned enough money to be finally considered a noble and hired Renault and Kishuna frequently for jobs. With Renault drinking himself to death, he was no longer getting any work done. He tried to talk Renault into taking more jobs, explaining that focusing on the heat of a battle could distract him better than alcohol. Renault agreed to try this approach, but did not find it helped shortly after completing the job. Thus, he would take jobs and drink himself away regularly.

By the end of the year, his name was all but forgotten. His name was not lauded across the land as a force to be reckoned with; it was lauded by the bartender as the man who held the pub's record for most drinks in a single night while still being able to pay for it. Renault was digging himself an early grave and eagerly digging faster.

That is, until he came along.


	2. Minor Tricks

**That They Might Not Suffer**

**_Chapter One – Minor Tricks_**

It had been eight months since he had given up his search for reviving Kishuna. There were no traditional methods of bringing him back and every rumor he searched out and turned up fruitless. Lord Reglay had stopped bothering him for a while, so he was free to drink his cares away.

That is, until he came along.

Renault found himself at a loss for words yet again. This was due less to being shocked by something and more that he was on his seventh drink of the night. He was still coherent enough to look around and register things, albeit incredibly slowly, but not enough to form much of a response.

It took him long enough to recognize the old man in the corner watching him. He was rather tall, but judging from the small black robes around him, he could easily hide behind a flagpole. He looked somewhat like a druid, although something of his clothes was throwing him off. It took him a long time to realize he wasn't wearing a cape or a hood. While his inebriated mind told him that was what was wrong, a rather small portion disagreed, but stayed silent. As he stared, he noticed that it wasn't that he had no hood, it was that he used something like a scarf to wrap around his head, covering his forehead and his right eye and letting the rest drop like long hair. Perhaps he had lost his sight like Kishuna, though only in one eye.

What was particularly unsettling about the old man was his other eye. It was simply a speck with very little coloring, like a snake. As Renault drunkenly stared at him, he came to the realization that all this time, that snake eye was watching him. And moreso than that, but the snake eye was coming closer.

"You've taken a healthy interest in me."

Renault waved his mug around. "Sho've you, snake eyesh. Whasshu want?"

The old man sat down next to him as he drank before spilling a bit more on the floor. "I don't believe we've met, Renault. I am Nergal."

Renault watched him with shaky eyes. "How d'you shtill know me? Shomeone still talks about me?"

Nergal smiled, and for a brief moment, Renault was uneasy, as if this was a person he shouldn't be associating with all too easily. "Oh, I've heard the tales of the legendary mercenary pair, Renault and Kishuna. Who hasn't?"

Renault acted on that impulse and glared at him. "Sho what? You're gonna make fun of me 'caushe I'm drunk? I'll shove my shord so far up yer ass that—"

"Patience, Renault." Nergal wasn't about to take any chances so easily. "I never said anything of the sort. In fact, I bring a gift."

He moved his arm forward and opened his hand, as if letting go of a bird and helping it fly away. Renault watched with a drunken apathy, but felt something changing inside of him, as if a warm breeze had penetrated his skin and was beginning to flow inside him. His reaction time quickened and he watched in amazement as he felt on top of his game and sharper than he was coming into the bar.

"What… what did you do?"

"I removed the alcohol from your system so we could have a bit more coherent chat." Nergal smiled; this one was perfect. Excellent quintessence, stumped by magic and, at one point, willing to sacrifice for his friend. This one would make an excellent assistant.

Renault simply stared in shock; Kishuna was a great druid, but even he never did that for either of them. While it could've been that Kishuna was drunk with him half the time and wouldn't have been able to… perhaps he had misjudged this man.

"Now, it has come to my attention that you wanted to revive your friend."

Renault shook his head. "It's not possible. Everything I've done has led to a dead end."

Much to his amazement, Nergal laughed. "Are you referring to those foolish sages, druids and bishops who speak only of the natural order of things? Or those ridiculous rumors you clung to like the last strands of false hope?"

"Get to the point, old man," Renault said rather forcefully. "What else was there?"

"There was me," Nergal replied shortly. "I have been researching a manner of energy and consequently magic that would make it possible to revive a human."

Renault wasn't impressed; he must have heard that particular spiel about four times now. "Sure you are."

"Unimpressed, eh? You were when I showed you that small trifling of a power."

He simply rolled his eyes. "Probably just a trick of some sort that just any advanced mage can pull off."

"Is that so? Then why is it that's the first time you've seen it? Surely, when other mages get drunk and start casting spells all over the place, it only takes another sage or some other advanced mage, as you called it, to cast it and simply bring them back into our realm of coherency."

He opened his mouth to talk and shut it. Damn. He had a point. "Alright, so what of it? It's not if someone stops drinking, they'll live forever."

Nergal stood up from his seat. "My dear Renault. If I was able to cast a minor spell like that that you've never even seen before, what else might I be capable of?"

Nergal could see the gears whirring away in his head. Perhaps this one wasn't so clueless without his friend after all. "I've made my residence and my place of research away from prying eyes, on the island of Valor."

That got Renault's attention and snapped him out of his thoughts. "The Dread Isle? Are you mad?"

"There's nothing dreadful about the place," he replied. "Besides, if such a stigma is attached to it, who's going to intervene?"

Renault conceded another point to Nergal. Perhaps this old man could bring Kishuna back…

Yet before he could answer, Nergal began to walk away. "Should you want your friend back, remember. You have a friend in Valor." With that, he walked out the door. Renault ran after him, burst out the door and looked in every possible direction Nergal could have gone. How could anyone disappear like that?

He walked back inside, paid his tab, and left for his home. Clearly, he had a bit of thinking to do.

Warped back to Valor, Nergal laughed to himself. What a foolish mercenary. Such minor tricks managed to impress him and while he appeared to be capable of some minor insight, he was still easily controlled. A friend in Valor. Ha! If anything, he had an employer in Valor. This washed-up mercenary would provide the help necessary to create Nergal's first morphs.


End file.
